


Shinkansen Fuuka

by MeltyRum



Category: Persona 3, VA-11 Hall-A (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltyRum/pseuds/MeltyRum
Summary: Mostly alone with her thoughts, an adult Fuuka reflects on her relationships and those of her "daughter".
Relationships: Stella Hoshii/Yamagishi Fuuka
Kudos: 5
Collections: Boku no Hero Academia x Persona





	Shinkansen Fuuka

Fuuka watched the Kanagawacountryside go by, having already gotten comfortable in her seat on the bullet train. She had thought that an overnight trip to Kansai would be good for the three of them; both Aigis and Natsuki-chan had spent practically their whole lives in Musutafu or other districts of Tokyo, so going a few hours out of the city would be good for them. Kanto was also becoming more and more dangerous these days, it felt, so she occasionally entertained the thought of finding another place… but that was something which would probably remain an idle fancy. At least, it would while Aigis remained at UA and Stella lived close by.

At any rate, Fuuka realized she only ever left the city for conventions or conferences. This time, she wanted to go on a trip that was completely divorced from anything like that—something that would be fun and novel. A weekend trip for a breath of fresh air. That was what happy families did together, wasn’t it? It nagged at her more and more these days—questioning whether or not she was a competent parent at all. While Natsuki-chan was young enough that she still had no idea how well she was growing, there was no manual at all which Fuuka could consult in regards to the progress of Aigis’s development. Like in regular parenting, she had to go by her gut.

Having never been on very good terms with her parents, this sort of excursion was relatively foreign to Fuuka. Rather than take educational or recreational trips, they preferred to see her with a book in hand—education was important, after all, and they expected a lot of her. On this point, Fuuka might be so bold as to say that she had exceeded those expectations, but it wasn’t as though her achievements would repair the relationship she’d had with mom and dad. So she found herself worrying that she may take after them, in some ways.

And to be honest… Fuuka _knew_ she wasn’t the most attentive guardian. Aigis was eight years old now, and though Fuuka had done her best to make her as human as possible, she could not claim to have been a doting parent for all those years. It pained her to admit it, but it probably was not until Natsuki-chan’s birth that Fuuka took a closer look at her other daughter in a capacity besides that of “creator” or “kindly researcher”. How unusual that the firstborn be the one who is most neglected.

This was having lasting effects, Fuuka pondered.

Sure, Fuuka had never been very close with her parents… but could she claim to be that close to Aigis, either? She knew so many intimate details about the robot’s creation and operation, but so much was changing in her life, these days. Her growth would have been obvious to anyone who was paying attention, and Fuuka certainly _had_. If Fuuka had truly been smart, she would have exposed Aigis to more humans much sooner. It had done her a lot of good; she smiled more often, engaged with people in the ways that people engage with one another—even with Natsuki-chan—and was always learning. It made Fuuka proud.

However… those qualities only rarely surfaced when Aigis was interacting with her “mother”. When it was Fuuka doing the engaging, Aigis was oftentimes more stiff, cold, and deferential—as though awaiting orders or other information, rather than looking to her the way a daughter really doesa mother. Fuuka had played the teacher, the therapist, the mechanic, and only rarely the parent. When Fuuka saw herself reflected in Aigis’s eyes, she saw someone who looked more like a god than a caring mother. Rather than warmth, she saw awe… and maybe fear?

There was no one to blame but herself, she knew. She worked hard to make Aigis close-to-human—lost so much sleep trying to synthesize Aigis’s capacity for intelligence and emotion. Months were spent simply trying to determine the mechanics of her speech (the voice being based on the original Natsuki; they had gotten close enough), or figuring out how to make her eat or cry convincingly (emotions had more than words weighing them down, after all), or working out a way to make a face that was convincing without being unsettling (their country had a surprisingly long list of failures on this level), or ways to make her clearly robotic while also relatable and human (hence the headphones and lack of flesh aside from her face).

So much work spent making Aigis as human as possible… only for Fuuka _not_ to treat her as a human? It stung. She’d stung _herself_ , as it turned out, and the regret was suffocating if she thought on it too hard. Minato… he had been with her more often; she hoped that he had been a better parent than her, all things considered.

But that did not mean things weren’t changing, she reminded herself. Aigis was, indeed, calling her _mother_ now, with no appeals on Fuuka’s part for this to be the case. If this was Aigis’s effort to grow closer to her mom, then it was Fuuka’s job to try and meet her there.

Hopefully the trip would be a good start, in any case.

Fuuka looked to Natsuki-chan in the seat at her side, watching as she toiled her way through the boxed lunch that had been delivered to her. Something about it seemed to puzzle her. “Mommy. How do they get the feathers off the chicken?How come these are smaller than chickens?” Natsuki meaningfully impaled a piece of karaage with her chopstick, making sure that her mother got a good look.

Fuuka gave her a placating answer involving machines, along with a gentle reminder to swallow before speaking. There had been a lot of questions from her little one, of late. Some were those typical of toddlers, while others (“Why is onee-chan so hard here? Where is her skin? How come auntie Stella’s eye is wrong?”) were a bit more unorthodox, albeit probably _easier_ to answer than the more mundane questions, where Fuuka was often confronted with the surprisingly tricky task of working out how to explain why the sky was blue when strawberries were red… Never before had Fuuka heard the word “why” so many times.

What’s more, Natsuki-chan seemed so much more… mobile… than before. Fuuka wasn’t sure if it was the development of a quirk or if she was just becoming _that_ _bad_ at keeping track of a toddler who could suddenly toddle about on both of her legs whilst threatening everything in sight with her small, curious, clumsy arms. Fuuka never would have guessed that a small girl nearly four years old would have posed a greater household risk than a prototypical crime-fighting robot.

Nearly four years old. She was surprised to feel relief at the thought. Nearly four years… Natsuki-chan would be in school soon. She would have to try not to melt when she saw Natsuki-chan in her uniform andyellow hat for the first time. Her hair was only a few shades lighter than Minato’s; she would look so cute on that first day, Fuuka was confident.With luck, Stella would be there to see it… and hopefully Natsuki’s daytime absence would mean more time with Stella herself; the socialite’s schedule was always busy and always varied, but it wasn’t impossible.

For the moment, at least, Natsuki-chan seemed satisfied, returning ravenously to her karaage with the typical table manners of a three-year-old child. Fuuka tried not to smile, wondering if she would miss this sort of childlike behavior once Natsuki-chan was a little older. If she was going to be anything like her namesake, it could take Natsuki a long time for her to really develop her manners—not that Fuuka would ever say such a thing out loud.

Looking to the seat across from her, Fuuka saw that Aigis had elected to try same lunch, eating convincingly—albeit a bit methodically. It provided a remarkable counterpoint to the messy and enthusiastic eating which was happening beside her. But Aigis had always been polite—even if her opening years had been populated with numerous misunderstandings and colored with the kind of social naivety which often made Aigis look a bit “rude” at first blush. It had consistently been a clear-eyed, innocent, and _polite_ rudeness, though—one that was prepared to learn and apologize.

And these handful of years later, that sinless and childlike impropriety was slowly working its way out of her system. That said, it would be clear to anyone who held even a brief conversation with her that there was much to be done. Fuuka hoped that the trip would be good for _that_ , too.

Naturally, Aigis had asked if Minako would be welcome to join them on this trip—and she was, of course. But as circumstance would have it, it appeared that Aigis’s favorite was going to be kept busy by plans of her own, which meant the traveling party would consist only of the modest contingent of ladies which populated the Yamagishi household (since Stella was going to be preoccupied, herself). Aigis accepted this without complaint, but it was plain to see that the android would have preferred _not_ putting so much Japanese countryside between the two of them, even if it was for a single weekend. Aigis had always been good at hiding her emotions, but she was getting worse at it.

“Still missing her, Aigis?” asked Fuuka, trying to be as gentle as possible.

After a brief search of Fuuka’s eyes with her own, Aigis gave her a bashful nod. “But I will be fine, since I am looking forward to seeing Kyoto with the both of you.” After some consideration, she added, “I only wish that Minako-san was here to see it, as well.”

“Right. Well, I’m sure that Minako-chan misses you, too. A little time apart won’t hurt, I think—not that you’ve been spending too much time with her, Aigis.” Fuuka thought carefully what should come next, trying her best to sound encouraging. “Well, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, as they say. It could be that this is for the best.”

“Yes, I agree,” said Aigis. It was obvious she hated saying it, but Fuuka could also tell that Aigis meant it. “And it is not as though we haven’t spent a weekend apart from each other; I simply find the distance… concerning.” She paused, as though momentarily hesitating. “The truth is that I would like to meet many more people. Learning about others has helped me learn about myself, as well. Minako-chan is very special… but hers is not the only perspective I need in order to grow.” Aigis allowed herself a nod, ostensibly satisfied to have shared this. The words were tinged with pain, but it was the kind of pain one felt once the pain’s necessity had already been accepted.

“I think I understand what you’re getting at, Aigis.” It wasn’t difficult. Aigis did not share overmuch with Fuuka—because she often didn’t ask—but it was clear to see that the inexplicable nature of the android’s attraction to Minako was disturbing her, too. It wasn’t unreasonable to guess that understanding _other_ humans is what would help her understand _herself_. Still, Fuuka wanted to tell her that even humans sometimes were infatuated with each other for no good reason… unfortunately, she wasn’t confident that it would be very helpful.

“I support you, Aigis. If you ever want to talk to me—or if you ever need to request my help, I want you to know that you can,” Fuuka added, with a smile.

Aigis looked up, apparently latching onto something there. “Thank you. I don’t know if this is possible, but… I’d like to start with others who were interested in me. Hoshii-san. Shirato-san. Kirijo-san. These are some of the people that I would like to see again.”

“To speak with?”

Aigis nodded.

This took Fuuka by surprise; she’d had no idea that Aigis was so interested in any of these people. The first time of any of them had spoken to her… she had barely seemed interested at all. “I’ll try my best, Aigis, but I’m afraid I can’t make any promises,” she replied, still slightly bemused. “I will let you know if I find a way. Of course, I’m sure Stella-chan would be happy to talk with you on any of her visits—and I think I’ll be seeing Shirato-san more often, soon. Considering how he behaved when we met, I’m confident he’d like to see you, too.”

Aigis gave her an embarrassedand grateful bow of her head, smiling thinly as she returned to the half-finished lunch in her lap. The next instant, though, she looked back up and met Fuuka’s eyes, mouth opening wordlessly, as though reluctant to continue.After another moment, she meekly returned her gaze to her lap and gave a small shake of her head, as though deciding whatever thought she’d formedwas no longer worth sharing.

Fuuka was loath to allow this opportunity to pass them by, however.

“Is there something else on your mind, Aigis?” Fuuka tried her best to see only a teenage girl, rather than an alien being of her creation. It embarrassed her how difficult this was. “As your mother, you know I’m always interested in whatever you’re thinking, right?” She asked as gently as possible, feeling more like someone doing a poor _impression_ of a mother.

“Right,” Aigis agreed, smiling politely. “Then I will tell you: I have also been considering joining a club at school. Something that Minako-san is not involved in—though I wouldn’t mind at all if she ended up joining as well.” She set her chopsticks down. “Somewhere I could meet more people like Minako-san and Monoma-san.”

Fuuka had been apprised on her activities with Monoma-san, and sensed some excitement from her eldest daughter, finding it a little infectious. “That’s a great idea, if the school will allow it. I’m very curious to hear what kind of club you’re thinking of joining, Aigis.”

Aigis nodded dutifully. “In class, my weakness tends to be any subject where ‘creativeness’ or ingenuity is required of me, so I would like to do something which will help mitigate this deficiency. I have heard discordant music in the school halls, and tracing the source of the sound led me to a club with its own large group of musicians and musical instruments—owned by the school. Based on what I know of Minako’s musical tastes, I thought that they were a band, but it appears only a few of them feel that way, and that there are multiple factions within this group.”

Fuuka blinked, uncertain where to start unpacking this tale. “You… want to play an instrument, Aigis?”

“That is correct. I have examined several of the instruments in question. I do not know what would most fit me, but—as I can exhale and inhale at the same time—I considered a brass instrument.” She lifted her hands up, fingers briefly curling to grip the valves of an imaginary saxophone before she let her hands drop back to her lap. “But perhaps another instrument would be more appropriate. One that does not take advantage of or emphasize my… construction.” It was starting to sound as though Aigis was talking herself out of wind instruments.

“That’s quite a surprise, Aigis.” The thought made Fuuka giggle, though. “But it sounds like you have a plan. I’m glad to hear you’ve been thinking so hard; I know it’s a bit late in the year to be joining clubs, but I’m sure the school would entertain the idea, on account of your transfer. If that isn’t the case, however, I’m sure we can find some other people for you to learn from.” Maybe no practicing at home, though. As much as this news tickled Fuuka, she wasn’t crazy about the idea of Aigis clumsily practicing with an irritable Natsuki-chan running about...

“Thank you, mother. It is something I will look into,” she replied, looking pleased with herself at having said it all aloud. She continued: “And there is another reason I would like to join, as well. Thus far, it feels as though most of my recent activities have been based on those that my friends partake in; these are things which make me happy, but only because being with the people I like—and emulating them—makes me happy.” She briefly paused, looking out the window thoughtfully. “I feel that I must find something that I want to do for myself.”

That made sense, Fuuka thought, after chewing on that thought for a moment. In the real world, people didn’t base their motivations entirely around their love interest. Aigis, inexperienced as she was, had clearly clung quite strongly to Minako shortly after her enrollment at UA. Like a child, she mimicked the more experienced people around her, trying harder and harder to look human to herself and everyone else. But—as proud as Fuuka was that Aigis was trying to become a more well-rounded person—there was something she didn’t quite agree with.

“You needn’t be so hard on yourself, Aigis,” she said. “You make it sound as though you had no desires of your very own, but that’s not true. You’re the one who decided to attend UA, didn’t you? To become a hero, just like… well, just like your father.” Fuuka tried her hardest not to say the quotation marks surrounding the word “father”.

Aigis shook her head firmly, as though she knew Fuuka would bring that up. “I doubt that motivation now precisely _because_ Minato-san was a hero. My original purpose was to be at a hero’s side, after all. Perhaps I wanted to become a hero because it was closest to what I had always known.” She paused again, as though regretful with how firm she was being. “That said, you are not wrong. It was a desire I had, and it’s possible it was genuine, so I thank you for your words…”

The android’s blue eyes met hers, and it was clear from the grimace on her face that she expected some sort of punishment—some form of divine retribution from the god which had crafted her. Had Fuuka really been that strict a caretaker…?

“I see,” said Fuuka, smiling thinly and measuring her words carefully. “I think I understand what you’re getting at, Aigis. And I apologize for not thinking more carefully about your feelings. I’m glad that you’ve found something that you want to do.”

Aigis smiled, visibly relaxing at the lack of discipline, but this was shortly replaced by a look of embarrassment. “Of course, I realize that it’s possible this new motivation is also artificial—perhaps born only from Minako-san’s fascination for music, given her quirk. So… if it’s alright, please do not tell Minako-san about this. When the time comes, I would like to tell her myself—or to surprise her.”

Fuuka couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Of course, Aigis! It’s just between the both of us.” She couldn’t help but wonder if Aigis had read something about serenades in a book, or something.

“And… there is one more thing.”

“Oh! Of course. I’m sorry, go ahead. What is it?”

Her demeanor had changed completely, and Aigis gripped the arm of her chair, as if for stability; while her face betrayed no embarrassment, a palpable shame rose from the robot, as though her embarrassment might end up crushing her. It took a moment’s preparation before she spoke again.“It is also… something I’ve noticed is that you still call me ‘Aigis’. Even though the others are Natsuki-chan, Minako-chan, and Stella-chan. It made me wonder… _why_?”

That was a good question. The simplicity of it took Fuuka by surprise: why _had_ she refused to use an honorific with Aigis? Was she still so many steps way from seeing Aigis as a human being that the idea brought her some kind of discomfort? Fuuka tried to think back as far as she could: did Minato use an honorific with her, too? But Aigis was Aigis. And though guilt heavily burdened Fuuka’s heart at the thought, Aigis wasn’t a… _real_ girl. She was only as close to one as Fuuka could get—and that was the fact of the matter, wasn’t it?

Fuuka shook her head, annoyed at herself for trying to make excuses. It would be best to be truthful with her daughter, wouldn’t it?

“To be honest, I never really thought about it. I think I’m so used to calling you by your project name that it never crossed my mind to do any differently. Even before you were born, it was the name I used, you know?” It made Fuuka smile a little, remembering it. “But if you would prefer that I call you Aigis-chan… I don’t mind at all. I suppose that’s what Minako-chan does, isn’t it?”

Aigis nodded, apparently satisfied by Fuuka’s reasoning. “Yes, that is what she calls me. And I don’t mean to _request_ that you call me that, but… I do like it. I think that I would prefer it.”

“Then I’ll happily call you Aigis-chan from now on,” Fuuka announced, surprised to feel some discomfort when she said it; it would take getting used to. “I’m glad you decided to bring it up! But—while we’re on the subject—I’ve noticed you have a similar habit, Aigis-chan. I know you are respectful by nature, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you refer to someone without an honorific. Even Minako-chan is ‘Minako-san’ to you. It’s rather formal; do you have a reason for that?”

It had been a peculiar quality of Aigis’s since she came to life, and one which often tickled Fuuka, particularly when her youngest was called “Natsuki-san”. But it was hard not to notice, and no doubt contributed to the, well, _mechanical_ nature of Aigis’s speech.

“You are right,” Aigis conceded, looking faintly pensive for a moment. “I believe it is something that has become habit. It is also an honorific which is appropriate for any situation, so it is ‘safer’ than if I attempted another and offended someone. To tell the truth, even referring to you as ‘mother’ is something I have yet to get used to; you _are_ my mother, but you are also Fuuka-san. I am still trying to decide if it feels correct or not.”

“I see,” said Fuuka, not surprised to hear this. “Well, I don’t want you to force yourself. I know how you feel, regardless of what you call me, Aigis-chan—so I want you to do whatever makes you comfortable.” And if the truth be told, she was more _used_ to being called ‘Fuuka-san’ in any case. While it was a little amusing, being called ‘mother’ by Aigis didn’t feel quite right for _her,_ either. At the very least, the fact that Aigis was willing to call her anything else at all could be taken as a sign of growth; there was no point in making things difficult for an android who was still coming to grips with all varieties of social behavior.

“Thank you, Fuuka-san. I mean—mother.” She adopted a relieved smile. “I have also considered that I am not, in fact, human. I know that is obvious to you, but what I mean to say is that it may not be appropriate for me to refer to people with such familiarity. I was created for the service of humans, after all.”

That was… technically true, Fuuka had to agree. But something about the way Aigis said it bothered her. She wanted to disagree, but couldn’t conjure the correct words with which to do it. Yes, Aigis was created explicitly to serve humanity—one human in particular, as it turned out, which was an assignment that had unfortunately not played out as she had hoped. In that sense, perhaps Aigis was no longer destined to serve humanity; the master that she served was no longer with them, and now she was just another consciousness navigating the oft-confusing avenues of society.

What bothered her is that she didn’t want to say that aloud. It hurt to even think of Minato’s death, and mentioning it wouldmake Aigis uncomfortable too. It also disturbed Fuuka that it never occurred to her that creating a thoughtful, emotional, sentient being and forcing it to _serve humanity_ might have been an unethical path of action. Fuuka hadn’t wanted to create a _slave_. But for the first half of Aigis’s life, she might accurately have been called such a thing. She wanted to correct Aigis—to tell her that no, she was not created “for the service of humans”… but Aigis hadn’t said anything that needed correcting, because she had simply told the truth.

“Did I say something strange, mother?” asked Aigis, gratefully pulling Fuuka out of her ruminations.

“What—no! I mean… no, Aigis-chan. Sorry—I got distracted.” Fuuka forced a smile; she could feel her heart beating, and a small part of her wondered if she’d made a very large mistake. “I just wanted to say that I don’t want you to think of yourself as _less_ than humanity. At this point, it seems to me that you are your own person as much as any of us are. You may not be human, but you are an equal member of society.” Perhaps not legally speaking, but… hopefully that would come, in time.

“In any case, you’re not alone,” Fuuka continued. “I don’t mean to compare your situations, but the principal of your very school is also not human—isn’t that correct?”

Aigis blinked, as though she had never really thought about it. “You are talking about principal Nezu-san?”

Fuuka could feel her momentum building. “Right! Like you, he isn’t human—but he’s certainly not subservient to humanity. Instead, he runs the foremost hero school; it’s not impossible that you have a similar future ahead of you. So… while serving humanity is an admirable goal, I want you to consider that there are many different ways of doing that. And even before that, I hope you take your own happiness into consideration.” She took a deep breath when she was done, a little bit embarrassed to have gone on for so long, but hopeful that Aigis would take her meaning.

It was hard to tell, at first, since the robot held her silence for a moment. Fuuka could practically see the words turning them over in her creation’s head.

“I see,” said Aigis eventually. “I suppose you are right. Nezu-san and I—we are both different from others, but it has not stopped him.” Aigis picked her chopsticks back up, looking vaguely satisfied. “I will take some time to think about this. Thank you, Fuuka-san.”

Fuuka exhaled quietly, settling farther into her seat. The silence felt a little bit more comfortable now, with both of her daughters busy with their lunches. She hoped that their fellow passengers didn’t pick up too much of their conversation; she could only imagine how it might sound to an outside listener. The conversation had been more difficult than she predicted, and she could still feel the tugging of dark and lingering thoughts regarding her decision to create a “servant” for her husband. Perhaps she should apologize to Aigis for that some day. How was it alright to manufacture a living person with all the agency of… well… a robot?

Fuuka looked back outside the window with wide eyes, trying to shake these thoughts out of her head. She’d noticed her thoughts becoming more pessimistic through the years—almost like the way they had been before she met Minato. She’d gotten so much better in all the time they were together, but… it was getting slowly harder, without him.

When she stopped to think about it, her mourning period for Minato had been rather short. Between taking care of Natsuki and trying to make sure Aigis was still charging herself—not to mention the occasional contract work here and there—Fuuka had few precious days to get her emotions and tears out. She was heartbroken, of course, and she was sorrowful and bitter for a long time, but… at some point, the pain dulled and shuffled into the background, making way for more immediate and more important things, like diaper expenses electrical bills.

Indeed, she had been melancholy and mournful—and would love Minato forever—but she had been able to move past it—had _needed_ to move past it. Where possible, she tried to focus on the happier memories, rather than the fact he was no longer with her. He was gone, there was nothing she could do about it, and there was little to be gained by focusing on her unhappiness. A piece of her heart would always hurt, but she had to try and sequester that pain. For the most part, Fuuka had been successful at this.

Which is likely why it had amazed and dismayed her when that same pain rushed back on realization of how happy she was with Stella—pain which was joined by the ugly bite of guilt and remorse. She _hated_ that feeling; she _knew_ she missed her husband—that he was always in her heart—so why shouldn’t she be allowed to fall for someone else? He was the past, and Stella was the future, and no doubt Minato would prefer to see her being so well taken care of?

However, this treasonous thought frightened Fuuka, despite any efforts to expel it from her mind. Some irrational voice kept telling her that it was cheating, or unfair—a cruel way of overwriting the feelings and memories she kept of the one she truly loved. “Falling for” or “loving” someone else… that was something that felt dangerous. Even if it was something that both she and Stella deserved. For goodness’ sake, Stella deserved _better_ ; Fuuka should be grateful to be near her, and she should try much harder to hold onto Stella’s affection. Maybe there would be a suitable souvenir in Kyoto...

Fuuka tried not to think of Minato. Not because she was worried she might burst into tears on the bullet train—she was long past that (except for that incident with Stella, anyhow)—but because every moment where he occupied her thoughts was beginning to feel like a gross unfairness to Stella.

Think of Stella instead, then, she urged. There was plenty there to reflect upon—naturally, even the discovery that she liked being with the same sex at all still came as a bit of a surprise to her. Though she had been given plenty of time to ponder on that already (thanks to Stella’s patience), sometimes it still confused her as to how she had never realized until Stella had asked her. The answer was probably simple, of course: Fuuka had been with Minato since high school, which meant such a realization was never given time to dawn inside her.

Nevertheless, it turned out that being with a woman was… well, it was rather good.

Between Stella’s philanthropy, her intelligence, and her beauty,there wasn’t much to lack, and with her family’s money in the mix, thissentiment extended to material things, as well. Considering Fuuka wasn’t exactly struggling, this latter quality had the _least_ import, but it wasn’t exactly something to be ignored. The rest of the world certainly wasn’t going to allow either of them to forget it, if their relationship lasted.

Hopefully, the socialite’s net worth didn’t weigh on Stella’s mind. Fuuka had wanted to comfort her regarding this—to assure her that she held no interest in her wealth—but even when she practiced saying it in her mind, it sounded useless and hollow. They were just words. Worse, they would no doubt have the _opposite_ effect: they could create suspicion where before there had been none. Particularly when it came to their recreation, Fuuka would just have to try and pull her own weight, financially speaking, and hopefully that would be proof enough that the humble Yamagishi house was not seeking charity from the Hoshii empire.

Which led to the recreation in question. Stella liked to relax, it seemed, and Fuuka found it hard to blame her; “socialite” seemed like an unfair term, considering all the running around she had to do in order to keep things sorted. Was she single-handedly funding every business in Musutafu? Fuuka savored this thought, amused. Sometimes it didn’t seem impossible. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she had decided to believe that Stella’s money was reaching the right places, considering an appreciable amount had gone to simply making _Fuuka’s_ work possible, it seemed.

Naturally, none of this would matter if Stella wasn’t so easy to get along with. Despite the fierceness in her _eye_ and the intimidating exterior, it was hard to think of someone more patient and kind; you had only to look at how she handled Aigis and Natsuki for proof of that. Her upbringing certainly hadn’t corrupted her, as so many of those magazines seemed to think. How simple it was to twist an act of altruism into something “apparently” selfish, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was a humbling thought, but Stella’s work would likely end up improving society at large, in the long run.

And she had cute animal parts, to boot.

Was it love, though? Fuuka didn’t think so—not yet, anyway—since she was already familiar with what love felt like. But was it possible that love simply felt different with a woman? A great majority of the experiences she’d made with Stella were—at a broad level—also shared with Minato, but so many aspects ended up feeling just a _little_ different. Was it because Stella was a woman? Or just because she was another person altogether? There were minute differences in the romantic process, for better or worse, which Fuuka found difficult not to notice.

The bedroom might provide the easiest examples. Simple, small things like placing your hands on her hips or running your fingers through her hair. The way the bodies contacted each other and the way that the mechanics of everything else needed to adjust because of it. Fuuka was curious as to Stella’s experience with other women (or men, for that matter), but—much like with the mechanical eye—she had been too nervous to question her about it.

On the subject of the eye, Fuuka never knew how to address it—should she look at it? Or at her real one? It made Fuuka so anxious that Stella had never brought it up herself, as though it were something completely normal. Certainly, everyone already knew the general story of how she lost her organic one, but… to pretend the machine in her face did not exist? It was true that Stella was more sensitive than her looks might suggest, but it was surprising to see that she was as susceptible to insecurity as anyone else: the way she avoided her eye in conversation, or the way she hid her chest, or the way she used her outrageous (albeit beautiful!) hair styling to try and distract from the both of them.

Not that Fuuka minded _either_ of those things—the eye or the bust—despite the degree to which they appeared to trouble Stella. She wished she could help, somehow. Fuuka was certain she could create a new eye, if needed—Aigis’s were perfectly functional, not to mention aesthetically pleasing. It shouldn’t be that hard to make the same thing work with the technology that Stella was already using, right? But there was certainly no way Fuuka could suggest such a thing, in case it implied a distaste of the original.

As for the “issue” of Stella’s bust… Fuuka would just need to be grateful that she was allowed to experience its grandeur whilst they were in the bedroom, even if it was a bit difficult to access once Stella had bound and dressed it.

It was starting to seem like Stella’s only imperfections were the ones that she saw in herself. The rest of her was… difficult not to like.

Yet… not love. But with time and luck and effort, Fuuka was hopeful they might arrive there, together, one day. Niggling, panicky, guilty thoughts of Minato aside, being with Stella made her happier and more fulfilled than she had been in a long time.

Of course, there were still things she missed about being with a man. But she was getting used to the idea of romance after _The One;_ growing accustomed to being “the widow who’s moved on”. It helped, Fuuka thought, that so many things about being with the same sex was simply _different_. The memories she made with Stella were new and novel and peculiar to her, which made them distinct from the times she did them with her husband. These memories wouldn’t wash away the old ones. This time they were with a _woman_ , so they weren’t the _same_.

Which wasn’t fair to Stella. There was no reason that their time together should count less simply because the two of them were women, or simply because Fuuka was less experienced in that arena. But Stella also had over a decade of memories to compete with, so maybe it never _could_ be fair for her in the first place. Perhaps that was an excuse, but… it also made sense. Things were strange and different to her now, and it _helped—_ in some small measure—to ease her mind, which meant Fuuka tried to welcome it. So it was that the differences comforted her about as much as they stoked the low, burning ember of guilt inside her.

That guilt extended to other things, Fuuka noticed. While Fuuka was enjoying the pleasures of the flesh with Stella, what exactly was Minako doing with Aigis, who had no such flesh to speak of? It hadn’t been long before Aigis unsubtly requested a cot in her room for Minako’s use, but it wasn’t as though Minako stayed the night that frequently, relative to how often she visited. But they were certainly up to something—not that Fuuka was planning to ask, instead doing her best to be a good mother and respect Aigis’s privacy. But… as a scientist, the curiosity was almost too much. If not Aigis herself, should she ask Minako? Or maybe Aigis’s classmates? Social modesty was something which Aigis still had yet to fully grasp, so maybe she had disclosed it to some of her friends at school. There was still something disrespectful about that, it felt.

It wasn’t a bad idea, though; perhaps the school would let her interview Aigis’s classmates sometime; it could be _important_ to keep monitoring the robot’s development, right? There was nothing _wrong_ with that, was there? Prior to this, either Fuuka or Minato would have had an eye on their mechanical daughter at virtually all times, so it was important to have a method in place for receiving reports on Aigis’s behavior.

Fuuka felt flustered, trying to devise all these excuses. She should simply ask. Aigis would be embarrassed, but she would still answer her. It was something that Fuuka felt she needed to know about—was she sexual? Was she developing feelings of love? More importantly, could she ever truly have a fulfilling romantic love life? It hurt to think that she may be unable to, particularly since Fuuka knew that she _herself_ was the only one that could be held responsible for that. Emotionally, love was available for Aigis to learn and experience, but… everyone knew that there was more to it than that, even if the emotion accounted for ninety percent of it.

Aigis had asked her, once upon a time: “Fuuka-san, what makeshumans fall in love with one another?”

Fuuka was unable to answer, as Natsuki-chan had begun acting up in that moment… and by the time the situation was under control, Fuuka had forgotten, and Aigis was likely too embarrassed to ask again. Perhaps it was just as well; could there be a satisfying answer to that question? Were there any right answers? She would be just as unprepared for the question if it had come from Natsuki’s lips. Why do humans fall in love? For any reason and sometimes no reason at all, o daughter of mine. If her feelings for Minako-san couldn’t be explained, well… that wasn’t all that inhuman, now was it? In that sense, Aigis behavior mimicked a person’s accurately enough.

Naturally, Aigis’s scope for infatuation and other emotions _were—_ by strict definition—mere mimicry of a human’s… but then, isn’t human behavior also, ultimately, mimicry of those who come before them? The easy comparison was between Aigis and her sister, Natsuki-chan. Their bodies were different, but they could both hug, kiss, smile, laugh, cry… Fuuka had worked hard to ensure that the way their emotions manifest would be so similar as to be indistinguishable. Other than that intimate physical component, then, how differently would the two of them learn about and experience romance, _really_?

But it was hard to deny that the physical component _was_ essential.

Fuuka had elected early on not to include any sexual organs for Aigis; the pieces of her construction which needed to be most relatable all centered on the face: the skin, the hair, the eyes, the “muscle” movement, the voice, and even accounting for tears. Other than the shape of the body, sex was not a significant part of the equation, because Fuuka had explicitly wanted to _avoid_ anything which might color the project as tawdry or vulgar. The last thing she wanted was for people to suggest that she was trying to create a living sex toy—even the suggestion mortified her as an inventor, and she didn’t want to risk anything which might undermine the legitimacy of Aigis’s creation.

But, now… that was starting to look like yet another mistake. Yes, Aigis had been gifted with the capacity to love a human—even romantically—but the physical connection that humans created in love was such a large part of the equation! It was unfair for Fuuka to have unilaterally discarded the idea before they had even begun. And… for what, exactly? For pride? To deprive the tabloids or internet commentators some rude remarks—manyof which were being made _anyway_?

There was little that could be done about it now, Fuuka thought. Yes, it was likely possible to alter large parts of Aigis’s construction, but that would take time and money. The only parts which were designed to be truly modular were the hands and arms, in order to allow for new weapon possibilities, some of which Aigis still kept in her closet. Certainly, it wouldn’t be _that_ hard to replace other parts as they developed wear, but the torso of her chassis would no doubt be the most challenging… which is the one that _counted_ , if certain enhancements needed to be made.

It was something that Fuuka would have to think about, and _offering_ or _asking_ either Aigis or Minako felt like a course of action that would end in disaster. What if she had completely misread their relationship, after all? A purely mental relationship was probably more likely than the places where Fuuka’s mind naturally traveled—and Minako was seeing other people, too, after all… perhaps to complement that very thing which Aigis lacked.

Either way, Fuuka thought. Either way, she would have to think about it. If more androids like Aigis came into being… it would only be _fair_ to give them all the equipment they needed, as it were.

But what sort of equipment or enhancements would Aigis even want?Did she want to be like a girl, or…? And allowing Aigis to _feel_ with those enhancements might require adjustments on a deeper level. In the worst case, that meant an update to Aigis’s software, which was… complicated, to say the least. Anyway, it wouldn’t be as simple as slipping new sensations into her with a USB drive. One day it might be so simple, but… certainly not now; this was why she had remained untouched since her revival after Wild Card’s death.

Fuuka had only recently learned the truth of his death, too. That had felt like a particularly busy week—first Minako mentions Shinjiro Aragaki, a name which Fuuka had assumed she would never hear again. In addition to this, it sounded as though she had become a regular at Ryoji Mochizuki’s cafe. Why did it turn out that Minako-chan ended up meeting so many people who happened to know Fuuka’s husband? Could they really all have gotten that same sensation she felt when she first met Minako and heard her name? And… come to think of it, Aigis had fixated on Minako because of some untraceable similarities to Minato, hadn’t she?

Fuuka shuddered. It was beginning to feel as though there was too much of _him_ in her life, still, when she was in the process of moving on. Not that she would blame Minako for it, despite the coincidences adding up to be almost too much to believe.

Minako had also divulged Aigis’s hostile response to Mochizuki-san. This was beyond unusual; even when responding to criminals, Aigis usually left the judgment and evaluation of danger to her father. Plus, sheallegedly admitted to having no justification for the way she felt about Ryoji—no explanation for why he seemed so dangerous.

As it turned out, this equation ended up being relatively easy to work out. If Aigis knew Ryoji, but couldn’t remember how… then there was only one place she could have seen him. One specific set of memories where she might have registered him as a threat.

Which is why Fuuka had gone to ask the man himself.

Moonlight Bridge had emptied out about forty minutes prior to closing time, so Ryoji had allowed himself the luxury of closing early in order to get jump-started on the cleaning. Or… that had been the original plan, anyway. Naturally, he forgot to change the sign, so only had himself to blame when someone wandered in as he was—quite awkwardly—putting the chairs up onto the tables.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you closed, after all?” she asked.

“No, no! My mistake—there’s still time, of course. My watch must be a little fast,” he chuckled, finding himself very amusing given that he didn’t wear a watch.

Since the seats at the bar remained open, he quickly slid himself back behind the counter. “What can I get you?” he asked smoothly, with a smile.

As he maintained that smile, he examined his last (?) customer a bit more closely. Her braided hair was nearly cyan in color and she’d chosen to wear a cute poncho over her shirt. Despite the warmth of her outfit, though, she didn’t look completely comfortable—her face told Ryoji that she was a bit nervous about finding herself in this place.All in all, this visitor was a bit older than his usual fare, but Ryoji was never particularly choosy.

Eventually, she turned away from the menu and smiled up at him. “Just a cappuccino, then, if that’s alright. You’re sure I shouldn’t come back another time?”

“I’m quite certain—stay and enjoy a drink, please! I’ll have it for you shortly, Yamagishi-san,” he promised with a smile.

Fuuka’s eyes lit with surprise, but only in the slightest. The both of them knew that it was only natural for him to know who she was, one way or another; be it through news of her work, or via her “daughter’s” friends, or even—as the case truly was—by way of her late husband, there were many avenues by which Ryoji should know Fuuka Yamagishi.

“I suppose it’s only fair that you already know me. I’ve heard some things about you, too, Mochizuki-san.” She sounded amiable, but paused briefly, taking in the rest of the shop. “You have a very charming cafe.”

Ryoji moved to the espresso machine as he continued the conversation, allowing her an embarrassed chuckle. “Your praise is too kind, Yamagishi-san—though I have to wonder where you might have heard of me. Not from your android, I hope! It seems like she takes a pretty dim view of me.” He laughed regrettably, as though sorry not to have her patronage anymore. It would be memorable having the custom of a robot, after all.

“Well, no, I didn’t hear from her…” started Fuuka, looking a little guilty. “But that _is_ the reason I came here this evening. I apologize if Aigis caused any trouble—she’s usually very well-behaved.”

“No, no trouble at all! And in any case, her girlfriend still comes by to visit a few times. Perhaps I should consider that a victory on its own,” he said jovially, inhaling through his nostrils to get a nice whiff of the steaming milk. “I hope I’ll seem as benign to you as I do to Minako-chan.”

Fuuka was silent for a moment, as though considering that statement. Her eyes seemed to trace the length of the counter a few times before she decided to speak again. “Is there anything you need to do after closing, Mochizuki-san? I know I came at a bad time of day, but I was hoping to speak to you privately—it doesn’t have to be tonight!” she added, raising her hands disarmingly.

Ryoji smiled. “Yes, well, I had a _feeling_ that you didn’t come here just for a cup of coffee. Here. One cappuccino.” First came the saucer, then the mug, all before he gently pushed it across the bar to her. “I’ll get the sign. I can’t promise to be a great conversation partner, though; always get worse at it as the day goes on!”

He felt her eyes on him as he stepped toward the storefront, shutting off the sign and cutting some of the lights they weren’t using. As he reached for the lock, Ryoji hesitated just for a moment, before eventually deciding it _probably_ wouldn’t scare her too much for him to lock the door. At least, not more than she would value the privacy of whatever she wished to speak about.

After turning the lock, he returned to his side of the counter, deciding to mix up a drink for himself while they were at it. Neither of them spoke while he did this, and… somehow, this was enough for Ryoji to guess what it was she truly wanted to speak about. Not about Aigis. Not about Minako-chan. So it would be _that…_

Ryoji knew the day might come, but he’d never gotten around to deciding whether or not he would be honest, when it did.

Eventually, he joined her at the counter, setting down his own drink and leaning on the bar opposite her seat. She’d helped herself to some of her drink during the silence.

“The coffee… it’s very good, thank you,” said Fuuka meekly, looking embarrassed for trying to cut the cafe’s stillness with a comment so mundane. She rallied quickly. “I have to say, I don’t get the same impression that Aigis did, but… that makes sense. That sort of thing would be bad for business.” She forced a smile, clearly too anxious to get to the heart of her visit.

“You’re right about that,” Ryoji conceded. “When you get down to it, the service is almost as important as the coffee. At least, it is if you want regulars. People like a place where someone will remember your name—or a place where you can order ‘the usual’, like in the movies.” He grinned, deciding to throw her a bone. “But I’ve had a lot of practice with it. I was actually a host before this, you know!”

This time, Fuuka’s surprise was more satisfying. “Really? A host?” She smiled, allowing a beat to pass in order to absorb this information. “That explains quite a lot, actually. But… well, I suppose you get that a lot.”

He watched her with a pitying smile, feeling sorry for forcing all this small talk on her.

Truth was, he was nearly as reluctant as she was, when it came to the subject of her visit. Probably more so, if the truth be told; after all, what kind of person would want to admit culpability in the death of someone else? Hell, Ryoji sure wasn’t certain that he _would_ be admitting it. Would her life be improved by hearing the truth? Would his? He realized it was entirely possible that she could destroy his business, if things went poorly enough—and if she were armed with the truth. He would be better off sending her away after her coffee.

Fuuka had apparently realized something, however, and Ryoji wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved… or sick.

“A host,” she said automatically, as though feeling the words in her mouth. Her eyes looked to the side, and then up, as though she was trying to look at the inside of her own forehead. “I think… Minato-kun did mention something like that, now that you mention it, Mochizuki-san. I knew your name was familiar.”

Ryoji smiled thinly. “Yes, that’s when we met. But not as a client of mine, mind you! He just happened to patrol the area where I worked, usually right around the time my shift ended.” He took a sip of his own coffee, finding it harder to swallow than usual. “We got to be pretty friendly acquaintances. I’m… sorry for what happened, Yamagishi-san. I wonder how long it’s been,” he added, even though he knew very well.

“Um… almost three years,” she mumbled, with obvious difficulty. She also looked a bit surprised, as though she had been expecting the number to be larger.

“Yeah. Yes, I guess you’re right. Have you been holding up alright, Yamagishi-san?”

“Getting by,” she said, smiling sadly. “I have my daughters, after all. And I’m seeing...” she trailed off, as though too guilty to admit whatever came next. “I mean: everything is fine. I wish he was here, of course, but things are as good as they _could_ be, without him.” She shook her head, as if to shake herself free from this subject. “Listen—Mochizuki-san, I think that I know why Aigis regarded you the way that she did. And… I suspect that you might know, too.”

Ryoji held his silence, giving himself a little more time with another large sip of his coffee.

“Mochizuki-san, were you present on the night that my husband died?” Fuuka’s words came coldly and levelly, as though she had been carefully practicing this question.

This is it, Ryoji thought. Last chance to turn her away.Final opportunity to laugh and wave a dismissive hand and tell her that of course you weren’t—you were just a host minding his own business, like any other night. Off work and onto the train… and the other way around when returning to the job. What would be the chances that he found himself in that same alleyway, or park, or empty lot—whatever it was? Or… maybe he was present, but he was still just a host; being a witness wasn’t a crime.

But betraying Minato-kun would feel somehow even worse than lying to the widow he left behind.

I better not get sent to prison for this, Ryoji thought.

“The night that Arisato-san died?” he asked, that pathetic and weak part of him doing its best to stall for time.

“Right. Did you visit the crime scene? Did you see Aigis?”

“No, I’m afraid I never saw her, Yamagishi-san,” he said weakly. This part was true, though.

“I am inclined to believe that she saw you, however, Mochizuki-san. Aigis can barely remember that night, due to the damage she sustained.” She punctuated that thought by having some more of her coffee. “But she remembers you—with her heart, if not with her mind. I think this could only have happened if you were present.”

“I understand.”

Fuuka watched him calmly. “And I know that conclusion is not strong enough to convince everyone… but it has convinced me, as I am very confident in my creations. Will you tell me what happened, Mochizuki-san?”

It was time, Ryoji knew. Time to either come clean or… do something much worse. The look in Fuuka’s eyes told him that it wouldn’t be easy for him to wave away her thoughts as fantasy. Ah, well, she was a scientist, after all… she probably had the stubbornness of one, too. On the other hand, it would be so easy to reach forward, place his hands on her shoulders, and simply start… removing things. Take away her desire for the truth, and he could be safe forever.

He could never do it, of course. Ryoji wasn’t the kind of vigilante to make an enemy of good people just for the sake of protecting himself.

“Alright, Yamagishi-san. I was there,” he admitted, standing up straight to stretch his back a little bit. “But there’s a bit more to it than that, for better or worse. It’s kind of a long story, and before I can tell _that_ , I need to explain my quirk.” He smiled. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head, so he explained—beginning with his quirk, which allowed him to rob people of their desires or motivations, and how he had elected to use it for the public good.

“That was, of course, highly illegal, but I decided to make my quirk a tool for vigilantism. Truth is, I never planned to become a hero—never in my life!—but when I realized the efficacy of my quirk, I guess I took it upon myself to try and… help people. If someone is hitting his spouse, I take away the motivation that makes him do it. If there’s someone who robs people, I can make them stop wanting to do so. Do you see?” He asked more for himself than he did for Fuuka, who only watched him expectantly.

“And robbery… I guess that leads to the heart of this story,” Ryoji resumed. “The criminal who killed your husband was one of my victims. He had been a violent mugger for some time; where he robbed, the injuries were severe—more than necessary, of course, since most mugging victims tend to cooperate.” This criminal had never committed a _fatality_ , but Ryoji felt too much shame to say that out loud. “So I decided to take away his need to take from others. One night, I caught up with him and did what I always do. I ‘helped’ him.”

He took a deep breath, exhaling regretfully. “Unfortunately, I clearly didn’t spend enough time trying to understand him, or I didn’t take the right ‘pieces’. This wasn’t the kind of man who robbed out of need, after all. So after he lost his desire to steal other peoples’ belongings… I suppose all he had left was the desire to hurt—and that’s what he did. Dispensing with the pretenses of robbery, he would just wait until one or two people were alone, and he would hurt them. Sometimes fatally. It took a few weeks for the news to break that these attacks were connected, and it was only then that I realized my mistake.”

He frowned down into his coffee cup, nervously fingering its handle as he considered where to start next. This would be the hard part, after all: the part Fuuka had asked about. But he could see that she had already connected all the dots—could see the way she set her lips to try and prepare herself for the pain of hearing the rest. She knew everything, Ryoji was certain. She was just waiting for him to say it.

“I searched every night, but… he worked over a pretty wide area, as it turned out. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the heroes and police were looking for him, as well—so I wasn’t even certain that I would _ever_ get to him before anyone else did. Not that it mattered, since he needed to be stopped in any case… but you can see how I might have felt some responsibility.” And that was the crux of it, Ryoji thought. Responsibility. Was he going to be blamed for this violent man’s crimes, once he had apprised Fuuka of everything? More specifically, would she look at Ryoji as though _he_ had killed her husband?

“Anyway, there were only a few times where I stumbled onto the crime scene before authorities arrived,” he continued. “And, though I’m sorry to say it, the one revolving around your husband was one of those. Shortly after I’d gotten off work, I… well, I got lucky, to put it bluntly. I followed sounds of a struggle, which happened to be between Arisato-san and the man I had been searching for. Only… I guess the criminal had just been too strong. As I said, Aigis was nowhere to be seen, and I’m afraid Arisato-san’s gun had been knocked away.” He gave her a chance to absorb that, pausing just in case the memory of it was going to be too much for her to keep listening.

But she seemed fine. Well, maybe “fine” wasn’t the optimal choice for describing the way she looked, but she was at the very least composed, sitting calmly with her coffee and watching Ryoji with the clear-eyed and attentive gaze that he might have expected from Aigis herself, rather than the android’s creator. It was almost as though she was more composed than he was, Ryoji thought, and he had basically practiced _telling_ the story dozens of times. This was just the first time he’d had an audience.

“So you were the first to see the scene of the crime,” said Fuuka, setting down her now-empty coffee mug.

“One of them,” Ryoji conceded. “I guess it would be more accurate to say the crime hadn’t been committed yet—no disrespect intended toward Aigis, of course—since Arisato-san was...” he trailed off, uncertain how precise he should be. “That is to say, the criminal was in the middle of it when I showed up. It was too late, but—gratefully—he never had a chance to see why I was coming, which is what gave me my chance.”

“Which is why he was still there when the police arrived…” Fuuka murmured slowly. “You took desires from him again—with your quirk.”

Ryoji nodded. “I’d made a mistake the first time I used my quirk on him. I wanted to make sure that the problem was solved this time, so I…” he trailed off, a bit too conscious that this was the cruelest crime he’d committed, even if he felt he had done it for the best.

Fuuka seemed to understand, but it took her a long moment before she said anything.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and shook her head.“That’s why he said nothing when the police arrived, then, isn’t it?They told me he spent most of his time drooling… that they couldn’t get him to talk, and that he was completely apathetic in regards to _anything_. But they caught him red-handed—literally—so the conviction was successful.” She looked like she was having some difficulty with what came next. “Which means you took more than the motivation to kill.”

“Yes,” he croaked, his throat dry from all the speaking… and the nerves. “Like I said, I made a mistake the first time. I wanted to make sure nothing was left the chance the second time, so… I took it all.” He paused, frowning down at the palm of one hand. “I was emotional at the time, as well. I won’t defend it as the appropriate course of action, but it felt correct in the moment… that’s all. I know there’s no one who will forgive me for what I did, but I am still truly, _truly_ sorry, Yamagishi-san.” He tried to keep a serious face, but he knew she would be able to see the fear in him.

She seemed not to hear his apology. “And this quirk of yours… this vigilantism—is this something you’re still doing?”

Ryoji nodded, trying not to let himself feel like a villain. “It is. And if you watch the news, you’ve likely seen the results of it at least once—often for the better, in my opinion. Naturally, I know that it’s illegal, and I try my best to make sure no one ends up like your husband _or_ his killer, but the answer is yes: I am still active. Trying to do what’s right.”

Fuuka looked as though she’d just swallowed something incredibly bitter; Ryoji supposed that she was probably trying to decide whether she ought to continue humoring him or simply get up and leave.

“I don’t agree that it’s ‘right’, Mochizuki-san,” she said calmly. “Such work should be left to heroes, and turning someone into… _that…_ isn’t right whether you’re a hero or not.” She closed a fist to her chest, apparently shocked to feel sympathy for the man who killed her husband. “But I doubt we will come to an agreement on that, so all of that aside… I appreciate you telling me the truth—particularly because it incriminates you so thoroughly.”

“I suppose I felt that you deserved it, Yamagishi-san.” He tried to smile. “Now that you know, what are you going to do with the information? Will you tell the police?”

“I… don’t know,” she replied. “I’ll need time to think—for my emotions to level out.”

It was hard for Ryoji to hide his dejection. On one hand, he felt lighter for having given his confession, but he also felt worry at having his fate in this woman’s hands. “I suppose that’s fair. I’m sorry I couldn’t have told you a story with a better ending, Yamagishi-san. What happened to your husband—I just want you to know I never intended for that to happen. And I know I’ve already said it, but… I apologize.”

She shook her head. “No, I… I don’t blame you for my husband’s death, Mochizuki-san, though I can’t say you aren’t associated with it.” She sat straight up in her seat, and she made sure his gaze met hers; the calmness in her eyes was only barely betrayed by the telltale gloss of moisture upon them. “But a quirk as powerful as yours shouldn’t be used so flippantly. You don’t help anyone if you make mistakes when using it; it’s not an accident that our society has embraced professional heroes.”

Ryoji felt she was right, but… “I can’t promise that I won’t use it again, Yamagishi-san. If I see a way that I can help, then I’ll take advantage of it. Sometimes there are problems that the system just won’t reach.”

“I thought you might say that,” she began, gathering up her things. Against all his expectations, she gave him a smile. “I just thought I should try. I don’t think I will tell the police about you, Mochizuki-san, but I think that you should turn yourself in. Perhaps someone with more experience than I can help you… either to focus your quirk where it could be useful, or to help you decide not to use it any longer. I hope you’ll consider that.”

She stopped to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’ll think about it, but as I said, I can’t make any promises. You’re pretty funny, though: you can’t convince me to stop using my quirk, but you think you can convince me to turn myself in?” he chucked, despite himself. “You’re pretty interesting, Yamagishi-san.”

She gave him some nervous laughter, looking embarrassed. “I realize the position you put yourself in by confessing to me, Mochizuki-san, so… I’m trying to make things easier, I suppose. I don’t want to see you in prison, but if you don’t turn yourself in, I hope you’ll live a simple life in your lovely cafe. We...” She sniffed and swallowed, gathering her composure before continuing. “We don’t need any more stories like my husband’s.”

Fuuka got to her feet, reaching into her purse. “At any rate, I shouldn’t keep you here too much longer. What do I owe you for the drink?”

“Ah—it’s on the house this time, Yamagishi-san. Anyway, I already locked up the register,” he lied. He could feel his heart pounding at the realization that he was really going to let her leave—that he was going to trust her not to sell him to the police. “I’ll get the door. Should I call you a cab, perhaps?”

“No, not at all; thank you, Mochizuki-san.” She started toward the exit, stopping to look around once more before she left. “I can understand why Minako-chan enjoys it here. I’ll talk with Aigis. I… think she probably deserves the whole story, too. But if I decide she’s not ready to hear it, I’ll at least advise Aigis not to consider you a threat, so perhaps she’ll return one day.”

“You’re too kind—really. Honestly, after everything I’ve told you, I expected—”

“As I said, I don’t blame you for my husband’s death, Mochizuki-san. Or… if you want me to put it another way, I’ll say this: I forgive you.”

Ryoji froze. “What?”

“I forgive you. You and my husband both failed to stop a violent criminal, and that ultimately broke my heart, but…” she trailed off, swallowing hard. Her voice had gotten a bit shakier. “Sorry. I don’t think I can talk about this anymore. All I mean to say is: you are not the criminal who widowed me. That man is in prison already. You didn’t _give_ him the desire to kill.”

She looked at him meaningfully, and didn’t seem unsatisfied with what she saw. Ryoji, on the other hand, only felt his pangs of guilt grow stronger at her words, and his mouth was suddenly too dry to respond.

“Good night, Mochizuki-san,” she said, with some finality. “Thank you again for explaining everything. I hope we get a chance to speak on better circumstances.” And with a quick bow of her head, she swiftly exited his shop. As he closed the door behind her, he could see her wiping her eyes again.

Fuuka was freed from her reveries at the sound of the lunch boxes being cleaned up and disposed of by an employee. Natsuki had crossed the row to sit beside Aigis and the two of them had started playing a table game which involved tiles with insects printed on them; it was hard to beat Aigis at such games, but Natsuki-chan held her own. Fuuka was a little embarrassed, having noticed that Aigis had been occasionally glancing up at her for who knew how long, while Natsuki-chan—in between turns—began to surround herself with the stuffed animals she had stowed away in her bag.

Fuuka had let Ryoji be, just as she promised him, but she was still wrestling with whether or not this was the correct call. He was dangerous, after all, even if she _did_ believe that he was not responsible for Wild Card’s fate. Was it irresponsible of her not to out him to the police? And he must have known that telling her the truth would risk such a thing, so _why_ would he do so? For some reason, selling him out would feel like a betrayal—maybe because he and Minato had been friendly with one another.

But she wondered if she was also keeping his secret for selfish reasons. Would Fuuka have been able to forgive Ryoji if she had not already ended up with Stella? More generally, if she _hadn’t_ found someone who was already helping her move on, would she already have handed Ryoji to the police? Obviously, there was no way of finding a good answer to that, but it was a question which itched at the back of her mind; she wondered how long it would live there.

These days, Fuuka would rather focus on other things… like the growth of her family, or finding out what would make Stella weak in the knees—not to mention the projects she’d like to work on, if she ended up lucky enough to work alongside Shirato-san and Kirijo-san back at the Kirijo Group. Aigis was probably her largest achievement, after all, and she couldn’t have done it without the company’s help, so of course she would like to work on something similar.There was quite a lot she could do on her own, but it would take a long time to reach completion without access to Kirijo technology and money.

Fuuka noticed Aigis’s gaze again, feeling as though the android somehow knew what had been on her mind. Ryoji… Fuuka hadn’t gotten around to telling Aigis about him, yet. Soon, she thought. Perhaps after they had returned to Musutafu; she hoped that learning the truth would not be too painful for Aigis, and that she would share Fuuka’s thoughts on the issue of Ryoji’s culpability. She doubted that the android would go rogue and attack him, but Aigis _was_ her own person now.

Fuuka would greatly prefer to keep him as a friend. It was an odd thought, and a small part of her shuddered at the thought of it—but he’d known Minato. For that reason alone, she was inclined to keep him close rather than push him away… but that would hinge on Aigis’s acceptance of him, and Fuuka wouldn’t blame her for refusing to do so.

But Aigis would have to hear it, sooner or later. Fuuka would make a note of it. For the moment, however, she tried to answer Aigis’s inquisitive eyes with a little, reassuring smile.

It could all wait, she thought. Until then, they would just have to enjoy their trip.


End file.
